


Talk About the Weather

by kalopsia (girltalk)



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Healing, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/pseuds/kalopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life happens. Sometimes you get engaged to the love of your life, sometimes you manage to get your dream job, sometimes you have to move out and dump your third roommate into grief daycare because he’s hung up on his Korean Jindo biting the dust.</p><p>Sunggyu learns that coping is a process, and a few other things along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk About the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for seasonthree! cross-posted to livejournal [here](http://kalopsia.livejournal.com/12454.html)
> 
> super self-indulgent u___u everyone's kind of an asshole, but love each other anyway

It wasn't a surprise when Dubu finally kicked the bucket.  
  
He’d been old, younger than Sunggyu obviously, but ancient in dog years. In the subsequent romanticised montage of Dubu’s life, Sunggyu found himself wishing he was a dog too. Dubu lived a pretty fun life in retrospect. Had a quiet, relatively painless death, and Howon and Dongwoo were always more considerate roommates to Dubu than they were to Sunggyu. Then again, virtually everyone was nicer to Dubu than they were to Sunggyu, but who wouldn’t be good to you if you had a life span of only 15 years.  
  
Howon wanted to bury him in the backyard. Unfortunately, living in an apartment meant they didn’t even have a backyard, and Mrs. Lee who lived on the ground floor had caught them trying to dig a hole in the front lawn and threatened to file a complaint to the landlord. She’d never liked Dubu – probably because she owned like thirty cats, but who’s Sunggyu to judge. Dongwoo was ready to fight the good fight but Sunggyu held him back and apologised for the damage. Truthfully, Sunggyu didn’t actually want to live with the knowledge that the body of his dead dog was lying literally three feet away from where he’d be collecting the mail.  
  
They ended up burying Dubu in a pet cemetery. They didn’t really have money for anything grand, so they’d bought a small slab of concrete and Howon spent thirty minutes scratching Dubu’s name on it with a nail. Sunggyu went back a week later to lay some flowers on his grave, but after walking four rounds of the lot, accepted that he’d forgotten where exactly they’d buried him, and went home to send the flowers to Hyosung for her birthday instead. She emailed him a Thank You message that Sunggyu marked as important.  
  
Sunggyu doesn’t remember exactly how many weeks after that Dongwoo slid the pamphlet across the dining table. He’d obstructed Sunggyu’s view of the sketch he was trying to draw, but when Sunggyu looked up, there was something on both Dongwoo and Howon’s faces that had him swallowing his protests and croaking out _“This is unnecessary, but I’ll think about it”_ instead.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sunggyu remembers first meeting Nam Woohyun a week into the second semester of his first year at University. In the dark Woohyun had looked rough, face finely cut, and– fine, he was hot. There you go. He was really fucking hot, and hot people usually don’t proposition Sunggyu until they’ve known him for at least six months, they’re drunk, and really in need of a rebound.  
  
Woohyun was really hot, didn’t look like his inhibition was dulled by anything other than the late hour, smelt pretty nice, and so Sunggyu honestly could not think of any reason to say no. Until the next morning that is, when he had woken up bleary eyed to Woohyun buttoning up his school uniform. In the muted yellow light filtering through the thin curtains of the dorm room, his face didn’t look nearly as rugged or dark or whatever perverse wish-fulfilling fantasy Sunggyu’s brain had managed to conjure up last night. In fact Woohyun looked flat-out _boyish_ with all the eyeliner smudged off, and better than any cold shower is the realisation that– _“Did I just fuck a minor?”_  
  
It’s ironic because Sunggyu looks at him now and thinks Woohyun looks pretty fucking old considering he should only be like what– 24? 25 now? Sunggyu isn’t exactly fit, but he raises a hand to rub against his smooth skin and feels a rush of pride.  
  
“Sunggyu-ssi,” Soojung says, startling Sunggyu out of his weird bout of self-praise. Woohyun tilts his head at Sunggyu from the opposite side of the circle, and Sunggyu finds himself wondering if Woohyun remembers him. Which is a stupid question, because _of course_ Woohyun remembers him.  
  
“Uh yes?” Sunggyu says. “Oh um, sorry. Do I introduce myself now?” Soojung smiles at him and nods. Soojung’s smiles look forced, like her default face is so exhausted that trying to look even remotely positive is a strenuous task.  
  
“Okay um,” Sunggyu stands up and wipes his hands down his jeans. “I’m Kim Sunggyu, 27 years old. I’m an artist, I usually work with watercolour and I lost my dog a couple of weeks ago and– uh.” The dainty looking kid with nice hair has his hand in the air – Sungjong, his name tag says. He’s already introduced himself but Sunggyu was definitely not listening. “Yeah?”  
  
Sungjong clears his throat and scrapes his chair forward before asking: “Are you serious?”  
  
Sunggyu gapes, and has to wait a few seconds for his cognitive gears to start turning again. “Uh, yes. Don’t... mourn police me.”  
  
Sungjong raises an eyebrow, “Do you know why I’m here?” he asks. Sunggyu doesn’t, obviously. Isn’t really sure he wants to know either. “I used to be an idol trainee,” Sungjong answers anyway. “I spent four years on my hands and knees ready to suck my leader’s dick if he asked me to just because he was older and I thought the only way I could ever get anywhere was if he thought I was good enough. Four years. _Four years_ ,” he repeats, voice dropping chillingly low. “Then, when I finally left, I had to throw my phone in the trash and then burn the entire bin so I wouldn’t cave and call him again. And _then_ on my 21st Birthday, he sent me an email outlining all the ways that I was a worthless, untalented, waste of space, and I read every single word. Read them twice, in fact. And by the end of it I was just really, _really_ , ecstatic because I finally knew what his new email address was.”  
  
Sunggyu blinks. How’s he meant to top that? He does a slow scan of the room, everyone’s either nodding absently, or staring at the clock, no one seems to notice that Sunggyu’s skin is burning off his face. Some fucking support group.  
  
“And you,” Sungjong enunciates. He breathes in through his nose and closes his eyes. When he exhales, it’s like he’s breathing out Sunggyu’s mass in air. “Your _dog_ died.”  
  
Sunggyu bristles. Fucking brat. “Listen alright, that dog meant more to me than your entire–“  
  
“Everybody!” Soojung chimes, raising her pen in the air. “Your worth, it’s not defined by what other people think, and putting others down to alleviate yourself isn’t necessary. In the eyes of the God we’re the same, we’re equal, and that kind of depreciating thinking is what you’re trying to defeat by coming here, right Sunggyu-ssi?”  
  
Soojung actually borrowed that pen off Sunggyu right before the session started, so he _knows_ it’s not about to shoot a poisoned dart at him. Still, Soojung points the end of it directly at his throat and you can never be too safe. “Yes,” he agrees, hand coming up to shield his jugular vein. “Yes that’s exactly right.”  
  
The thing is though, everyone might be equal in the eyes of God, but Sunggyu is _not_ God, and already Sungjong ranks lower than his broken garbage disposal, and everyone else that introduces themselves probably do rank higher than Woohyun but Sunggyu’s a pessimist who always focuses on the worst things. So when it’s finally Woohyun’s turn, Sunggyu forces himself to try and appear no less inattentive than he’d been the rest of the hour.  
  
Woohyun stands up and clears his throat. “Hello, I’m Nam Woohyun, 25 years old.” He smiles and waves and sits back down again. Sunggyu blinks and looks to his right: Soojung’s jaw tenses but she does her generic welcome greeting before prompting the next person to speak.  
  
So it’s only Sunggyu who feels oddly cheated then. That’s how it is.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dongwoo and Howon are comparing prospective apartments when Sunggyu comes home that evening. Howon raises a hand to acknowledge that he’s registered Sunggyu’s presence in the room, and then goes back to nit-picking over the ideal tap water pressure with Dongwoo. Sunggyu gets it, he does. Life happens. Sometimes you get engaged to the love of your life, sometimes you manage to get your dream job, sometimes you have to move out and dump your third roommate into a grief daycare because he’s hung up on his Jindo biting the dust. Still, he wishes they wouldn’t do it so shamelessly in front of him.  
  
Sunggyu’s plan is to grab a mildly satisfying snack and retreat into his room to work on the goddamn painting he’s been trying to finish for the past month. He gets as far as opening the fridge and grabbing a piece of _gyeongju bread_ before Dongwoo’s voice basically skips over to him with it’s enthusiasm.  
  
“Hyung! How was it?” he asks, grinning at Sunggyu expectantly. Howon furrows his eyebrows, like he’s confused about Sunggyu existing, until a lightbulb goes off in his head.  
  
“Oh right! That support group thing at the college,” Howon remembers. “You actually went?”  
  
Sunggyu flicks a small crumb at Howon. “You guys are the one who peer-pressured me into going.”  
  
“Yeah but I didn’t think you’d actually take our advice,” Howon refutes. “So anyway, how was it?”  
  
Sunggyu weighs up the pros and cons in his head. “It was… not what I expected,” he says.  
  
Dongwoo props himself up on the kitchen counter, leaning forward. “In a good way or bad way?”  
  
“In a…” Sunggyu hesitates. In the silence, when he thinks back – to Soojung’s words of positivity, frayed from overuse around the edges; to Sungjong’s weighted glare; to gathering up courage at the end of the session, and opening his eyes to find Woohyun gone – the Earth feels lighter. He’s afraid of moving, like he might fall through the solid kitchen tiles below him. “In an unexpected way,” he answers.  
  
“Hyung,” Howon prompts. Sunggyu startles, almost falling into the open fridge. “You alright there?”  
  
Sunggyu looks down. The bread in his hand is crushed beyond recognition. Half of it’s in pieces on the ground, and the red bean paste is all over his fingers like he’d been squeezing the blood out of Dubu’s heart instead.  
  
Someone’s hand wraps around his, and then Dongwoo is guiding him to the kitchen sink, cleaning off his fingers under the tap water. Howon has the phone pressed against his ear and shoulder, standing at the hallway table looking through the drawer where they hoard take-out menus. “Let’s order in tonight, I don’t feel like cooking, and I want to celebrate a successful day of apartment hunting” he says.  
  
He pulls out the menu for the Japanese restaurant nobody except Sunggyu enjoys.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The night before the second meeting, Sunggyu makes a list of all the things he wants to say to Woohyun. It’s a pretty short one, probably not deserving of the 10 drafts lying underneath Sunggyu’s desk in the form of scrunched up paper balls. The first thing on the list is _’How are you?’_ , the second thing is _’Do you remember me?’_.  
  
What ends up actually coming out of Sunggyu’s mouth when he finally gets a chance to speak to Woohyun is: “So what the fuck is wrong with you?”  
  
He regrets it as soon as it’s out of in the air between them. The thing with Woohyun is, he’s always been insurmountably, arguably irrationally, sensitive. Which means having a bad hair day and having his parents die in a car crash would more or less elicit the same emotional response from him. Right now Sunggyu runs a 50/50 chance between being an asshole, and being an asshole who’s about to be punched in the face.  
  
Thankfully Woohyun seems unphased. He finishes off the mini-sandwich in his hand before dignifying Sunggyu with a response.  
  
“I have approximately seven weeks left to live,” he reveals, reaching towards the refreshment table for a cup of orange juice. Sunggyu’s world comes to an abrupt halt, before the small quirk of Woohyun’s lips comes into view and it quickly begins turning again, a little lopsided as it tries to pretend it didn’t stop thanks to Nam Woohyun of all people in the first place.  
  
“You liar,” Sunggyu bites out, Woohyun’s eyes smile at him from over his plastic cup. “I can’t believe you broke the 10th promise of Co-Dependents Anonymous already. Thou shall not be a fucking piece of shit.”  
  
“I do _not_ remember that being on the pamphlet.”  
  
“Seriously,” Sunggyu cuts in, “Why are you here?”  
  
“Honestly?” Woohyun presses.  
  
Sunggyu rolls his eyes. “No, lie to me.”  
  
“Fine,” Woohyun complies, “But you asked for it. Well, I was feeling kind of lonely so I called up Hyomin-noona – remember her? She did fashion, was in your textiles class. I called her up and we were like, alright let’s fool around a little bit just to make things less depressing but obviously I fell like an idiot for Hyomin, ‘cos how can you _not_ fall in love with Hyomin. But then she went to Japan for some conference and met this guy called Joon and when she came back to Seoul she had a boyfriend!” Woohyun makes jazz hands, like he’d just done a clever magic trick and wasn’t detailing the breakdown of his psyche.  
  
“Anyway, I didn’t take it that well and lit Joon’s car on fire and locked myself in my apartment and wouldn’t come out for weeks. Kibum – you wouldn’t know him, but he’s my best friend – came over one day and told me to get my life in order and threw the ad for this place at me. So, that’s how I ended up here, meeting you,” he finishes, popping a carrot into his mouth.  
  
Sunggyu feels dizzy all of a sudden, he grabs a cup of water from the table and downs it in one go. He takes his time choosing the right words before speaking. “You’re crazy,” he decides. “You being here with the rest of us is disrespectful.”  
  
“I’m sure...” Woohyun says slowly. “How’s your dog, hyung?”  
  
“Fuck you–“  
  
“Do I hear negativity?” Soojung’s voice rings from the other side of the room. Sunggyu’s back straightens. He plasters on a smile that he hopes doesn’t look as artificial as it feels and waves in Soojung’s direction. “No?” Soojung says, “I don’t, Sunggyu-ssi? That’s good.”  
  
Woohyun laughs. He looks young when he laughs, almost cute. Well, Woohyun used to always be cute to Sunggyu, but when his lips split into a smile, and his eyes turned into crescents, and his whole body began shaking, it became an _especially_. Sunggyu remembers this very clearly. That stupid laugh got him to do a lot of stupid things.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“I really am sorry about your dog, hyung,” Woohyun says later. They’d spent an hour going around the circle, professing to what Soojung called _Faith, hope and realisation. Even if you fail, and you lapse back to self-destructive, controlling, compliant, or avoidant patterns, there’s a Power greater than you that’s able to restore you back to sanity._ To Sunggyu it was just an embarrassing game of madlibs.  
  
(To a higher Power I acknowledge that my attachment to _(my dog)_ was unhealthy and unloving to myself. I felt into patterns of _(avoidance)_ when faced with _(the death of my dog)_ , and I admit that many of these habits were out of my reach. This Power is greater than myself, and through Him I will achieve liberation from _(my dog)_.)  
  
“It’s fine,” Sunggyu assures tiredly, massaging his temples. From the corner of his eye he can see Sungjong glaring at him; his pissy mood from last week hasn’t dissipated in the least and Sunggyu spent the entire session pretending like he couldn’t feel the force of Sungjong’s disdain burning a hole into his forehead. “I’m sorry about my dog too.”  
  
Woohyun hums, Sunggyu wants to leave but he isn’t sure whether Woohyun’s going to follow him out to continue the conversation. “What was his name again… Dubu right?” Woohyun asks.  
  
Sunggyu’s mouth goes dry. He runs his tongue along the inside of his lips, and it’s like he’s scraping sandalwood. “Yeah,” he replies.  
  
“You used to hate dogs,” Woohyun remembers. His eyes are unfocused, like he’s talking to himself. “It’s funny how things turn out.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sunggyu goes straight to his room when he arrives home, acting like he can’t see the flattened cardboard boxes stacked against the living room wall. Lately he’s been making most of his income through doing design commissions for advertising agencies. He isn’t proud, but there’s no way for him to make profit off his actual art when he’s only a starving artist because he can’t produce any fucking art in the first place.  
  
On his desk there’s a crude sketch of an anthropomorphised steering wheel, a mascot he’d been hired to draw for a small car dealership. He scowls at it before walking to his supply closet, finding a medium sized watercolour canvas and using it to cover the drawing. Sunggyu scratches his finger down the material, comes away with nothing but white residue under his nail, and it’s calming for once in it’s vivid blankness.  
  
Sunggyu has two more commissions to finish before this week ends if he wants to put food on the table, but since he’s here anyway he grabs his brushes and starts painting.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The alleged first time Sunggyu met Sungyeol was at a party at Dongwoo’s house. One he never even wanted to go to, but he’d accidentally ended up falling asleep in Dongwoo’s bed after finally finishing his Printmaking assignment, and woke up at 11pm with some gangly kid vomiting into his shoes. The second time he’d met Sungyeol was more formal, or as formal as meeting your teenage one-night stand’s best friend can be at least.  
  
“You’re… 17,” Sunggyu had groaned. The age of consent in Korea is 13, but that wasn’t about to score him points with anyone whose opinion mattered. “Oh geez.”  
  
Sungyeol had looked flabbergasted. “You’re only _19_? Holy shit. When we saw you we thought you were at least 30. Woohyun I want my money back.”  
  
Sungyeol of the present day looks sheepish, scratching the back of his neck as Sunggyu glares at him. “I’ve apologised for that like twenty times. Sorry hyung, but you seriously looked super old then. You look a lot better now, that nose job was a good idea.”  
  
Sunggyu rubs the tip of his nose defensively. “Shut up, it’s the hair.”  
  
Sungyeol doesn’t look convinced. “Right.”  
  
“Is it bring your pet to school day?” Sunggyu snaps, turning his attention to Woohyun who simply shrugs.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Sungyeol assures, holding a fist against his heart. “I come completely free of judgement. I want you to recover more than you do.”  
  
Sunggyu shakes his head. “You’re both idiots.”  
  
To Sungyeol’s credit, he’s a lot more reserved and quiet than Sunggyu ever remembers him being. Maybe being next to someone like Woohyun just made him seem louder– have to _be_ louder. Or maybe it’s circumstance. Sunggyu never thought much of Sungyeol’s ability to compartmentalise, but sitting in a circle listening to broken people retrace exactly how they came to be so broken is probably dense enough to sink right to the bottom of the most unaffected person. Except Sunggyu, apparently. But it’s not that he’s apathetic. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s because like almost everybody else here, he’s only a little self-absorbed.  
  
Maybe that’s why when Sunggyu first walked into the room to see Sungyeol with an arm around Woohyun’s shoulder, it was his seventh meeting with Sungyeol that he remembered first and clearest. They hadn’t even met in person, but in the same way he can still feel the ache in his shoulders from when Woohyun had pushed his way into the room all those years ago; can still feel Woohyun’s hand wrapping around his neck like it’s a scarf he’s always wearing; feel his lips mouthing _”Relax, okay? It’s not your fault if you couldn’t stop it.”_ ; he could hear Sungyeol’s voice from Woohyun’s discarded phone on the floor that night, yelling _“Fine, don’t listen to me Woohyun. You chose him, so go fuck him. Do whatever you want.”_ like he was shouting it right at Sunggyu’s face.  
  
“I…” Sunggyu’s speaking. He’s standing up. Sungyeol is looking straight towards him.  
  
“Do you want me to prompt you?” Soojung offers when he’s been quiet for too long. God, her can-do front is so fake it’s transparent, but Sunggyu’s thankful for it. He nods, and Soojung clears her throat. “What do you think lead to you to forming a unhealthy relationship with your dog?”  
  
Sungjong snickers, but it’s not him Sunggyu owes an honest answer to. “I think it was…” he pauses to take a shaky breath. “He was always there, I think. I’m really… I’m used to being in control, I don’t know, I guess it comes from being a bit of a perfectionist. It’s not that I controlled Dubu– that’s his name, by the way. I think it was just nice to have somebody there who wanted my affection, or went out of their way to seek it out. I liked taking care of him too, I liked being able to I don’t know… Alright, yeah, feel in control that way. He was a little bit like medicine. He was there everyday, there were some obviously irritating side-effects, like I think I spent more on food for him than I did for myself, but I accepted it all without thinking. Then, when he left, when I stopped taking the medicine– that’s when I noticed. Noticed the difference it all made.”  
  
He blows a thin strand of air through pursed lips to try and ground himself. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, not applause or anything, but it feels weird, wrong, to come to finding himself standing in the same room, in front of the same people. Sungyeol looks confused, and Sunggyu feels embarrassment trickle down from the top of his head and pool in his gut.  
  
“Can I go to the bathroom?” Sunggyu asks, not wanting to be alive any longer. Soojung is about to nod her assent, until she spots Woohyun slouched in his chair with his hand up and says, “Can you answer Woohyun-ssi’s question first?”  
  
Sunggyu opens his mouth to refuse, but ends up blurting out, “Sure.”  
  
Woohyun looks conflicted, like he didn’t really want Sunggyu to end up saying yes. “What colour was your dog?” he asks.  
  
Sunggyu’s recall ability momentarily blanks out. He shakes his head until the right word settles itself at the front of his memory. “White,” he answers. Dirty white, actually. Like the colour of the snow after Sunggyu had trekked all over it. Like the colour of Sunggyu’s sheets if they’d been a canvas, and Woohyun a brush.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“What’s this?” Dongwoo asks, standing in front of Sunggyu and the television. Sunggyu lets out an annoyed grunt and strains his neck to try and see past him.  
  
“I don’t know Dongwoo, go see a doctor,” Sunggyu dismisses. “Amy already has a ring, she doesn’t need to catch further proof of commitment.”  
  
“Funny,” Dongwoo snorts, and then drops something on the coffee table that's large enough to make a loud noise. “I mean this. What's this?”  
  
Sunggyu crinkles his forehead, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “Oh right.” He blinks. “I painted that. It’s Haeundae Beach. Remember when we went there on holiday after graduation?”  
  
“You painted it,” Dongwoo says, astonished. A reaction that would make more sense to Sunggyu if they hadn’t been friends since high school and all the way through University where Sunggyu had graduated with a Fine Arts degree. “Why was it in the same box as my shoes?”  
  
“I wanted you to have something to remember me by in your new home,” Sunggyu explains, shrugging.  
  
Dongwoo’s eyes look watery, and half of Sunggyu tenses up into alarm, and half of him softens into something dangerously sentimental. “Geez,” Sunggyu whines, pushing himself up from the couch to wrap Dongwoo in a hug. “You’re the one moving out, why are you being this way?”  
  
“You’re so annoying,” Dongwoo gulps into crook of Sunggyu’s shoulder. “I’ve been feeling really guilty and I don’t know. I’m glad you’re painting again.”  
  
Right. Sunggyu had forgotten he’d stopped in the first place. It wasn’t like it was a conscious decision after all.  
  
“I’m getting there,” Sunggyu resolves, playing with the hair on the back of Dongwoo’s neck. “Slowly.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sunggyu likes to believe he’s made considerable progress since the first meeting. But it’s the kind of progress that feels like driving through a long highway to get from one deadbeat town to the next. Sometimes the clouds make cool patterns or he’ll see a cow out the window, but usually the most interesting thing he comes across is tumbleweed. The tumbleweed, of course, being Sungjong’s inexplicable– and Sunggyu isn’t afraid to call it what it is now – _hatred_ for him. There isn’t any time where Sunggyu’s eyes accidentally land on Sungjong that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to evaporate Sunggyu off the face of the Earth with the heat of his contempt.  
  
“You really don’t know why?” Woohyun says disbelievingly. His hands are hooked under Sunggyu’s arms, Soojung has them doing trust falls this session. Sunggyu had watched everybody else partner up with a growing sense of dread, until the only person left was Woohyun who was grinning at Sunggyu, looking like the cat that finally caught the mouse. To be fair, he hasn’t dropped Sunggyu yet, not even after Sunggyu experimentally loosened his grip and almost made Woohyun flail himself onto the floor.  
  
“I do know why,” Sunggyu insists, righting himself up and closing his eyes. He counts to three in his head, disassociating himself and gathering his courage. “He’s a cat person.”  
  
Sunggyu tips himself onto his heels, lets gravity pull him backwards until his shoulders hit Woohyun’s chest. Woohyun shifts forward so his hands are on Sunggyu’s waist, holding him steady in a more comfortable, closer position. “You’re so narcissistic,” he chuckles against the shell of Sunggyu’s ear, dark and throaty.  
  
His grip is tight, but Sunggyu’s stomach drops and he’s suddenly afraid of hitting rock bottom.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Woohyun had an unprecedented skill in being able to grab onto the dregs of Sunggyu’s already questionable personality, and drag them up to the surface. Most of the time it had to do with the way he’d sulk. Woohyun was an A+ sulker, could make his entire body just _droop_ with moroseness if he wanted to. He carried the power to pout and cold shoulder Sunggyu into texting Hyosung some half-assed excuse cancelling their date for the night, all in favour of blowing Woohyun on a crappy second-hand couch while _‘A Frozen Flower’_ played on an even crappier second-hand TV in the background. Other times, it was because he was a nosy brat who knew how to charm Sunggyu’s older sister into sharing stories from his tumultuous pubescent years.  
  
Either way, it was annoying then and it’s annoying now when Woohyun shoves Sunggyu’s old high school yearbook under his nose. “Where the hell did you get that?” Sunggyu hisses, glancing at eighteen year old him’s hairstyle and cringing.  
  
“Just look,” Woohyun sighs, irritated.  
  
“This is meant to be a safe space,” Sunggyu grumbles, shaking his head. He squints down at the photo, it’s an exceptionally unfortunate one of him with the Art Club. It takes Sunggyu a moment, but then he realises what Woohyun’s talking about with a distressful clarity. “Okay, fine, it’s true. But listen, it wasn’t a nose job. I had a sinus infection and–”  
  
“ _No_ you idiot,” Woohyun slaps the page, and then points to a small boy standing almost out of frame with his arms crossed. “Recognise him?”  
  
“Uh, am I meant to?” Sunggyu asks. The kid in the photo doesn’t even look like someone Sunggyu would talk to back then, aggressively skinny, and held together like a dandelion seed. As if he’d float away if Sunggyu so much as breathed too hard on the page. “No offense, but if I knew him it would probably be because we got beat up by the same people in high– _Oh_.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sunggyu says. Sungjong narrows his eyes, tries to manoeuvre his way past him, but Sunggyu steps left and blocks his path again. “Look, I’m really, _really_ sorry Sungjong.”  
  
“Oh hey, you know my name without me having to wear a nametag,” Sungjong observes sarcastically. “Maybe I underestimated you.”  
  
“I deserve that,” Sunggyu concedes, sighing. “Listen, I’m a dick. Was a dick, I’m trying to like, move past that now. But all the shit I gave you in highschool, I’m really sorry for. I’m not– I’m not the kind of person who enjoys the fact I might’ve ruined someone’s life.”  
  
“You didn’t _ruin my life_ ,” Sungjong says, scoffing. “But you’d think the guy who made you stay in every lunch to clean the paint brushes, who forced you to stand still for 3 hours so people could draw penises on your face as an “ode” of Marina Abramović’s _‘The Artist is Present’_ , would be someone who would at least recognise you when you spoke to him.”  
  
Sunggyu flinches. “I… have a bad habit of suppressing memories of me being particularly shitty. It’s a coping mechanism.”  
  
Sungjong eyes flicker. He has a pretty face, which sort of makes the murder brewing underneath his naturally soft expression all the more petrifying. “Do you know what _I_ used as a coping mechanism?” he challenges.  
  
Sunggyu takes a step back. He really wishes he knew the answer to this, because he doesn’t want to hear it the way it’s bound to come out of Sungjong’s mouth. “Uh, yoga?”  
  
“No,” Sungjong shoots down, unimpressed. “Well yes, actually. Yoga’s very helpful. But no.” He eyes Sunggyu, contemplative. and then his mouth curls upwards into a smirk that looks too ugly for him, “How about I show you instead?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“A _dart board_ ,” Sunggyu wheezes, hefting the box onto the back of the moving van. “Howon, he literally has a dart board with my face on it.” He struggles to keep his voice level while speaking, already winded from all the trips taken up and down the stairs. Howon, on the other hand, looks like he could still recite the national anthem while doing push ups with Sunggyu sitting on his back.  
  
“That reminds me,” Howon says, rubbing his chin. “I don’t have to live with you anymore, but should I bring mine to the new apartment anyway?”  
  
Sunggyu snorts and punches his shoulder. “Funny. Also it’s not just me, he has an entire inventory of dart boards, like he’s the kid from Death Note. Except whenever he thinks someone should disappear from society, instead of writing their name down in a book, he pastes a picture of them onto a dart board and then throws small missiles at them.” Howon looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh, so Sunggyu repeats, for emphasis, “A _dart board_.”  
  
They manage to move half of Howon’s dismantled bed onto the back of the van before Sunggyu collapses dramatically on the stairs and Howon finally takes pity on him and magnanimously calls for a break. Sunggyu is flopped face-down on the sofa when Howon approaches him with two water bottles in his hand. Sunggyu takes one gratefully, reciting a prayer as he holds it to his lips.  
  
“By the way,” Howon says, uncapping his own bottle. “I heard you gave Dongwoo a landscape painting as a housewarming gift. If you’re going to play favouritism, at least do it with your actual favourite.”  
  
Sunggyu laughs, causing some of the water to spill from his lips and dribble down his chin. “ _Actually_ ,” he proclaims, standing up. “I do have something for you, hold on.”  
  
Sunggyu goes into his room and pulls out the small drawer installed into his bed frame. He sifts through all the random crap in there – his first paintbrush, a picture of him with his mother at graduation, a set of blunt kids’ watercolour pencils – before finding what he was looking for with a small ‘aha’. He rushes back to the living room where Howon sat waiting, curiously flicking through a sketchbook Sunggyu had left forgotten on the table.  
  
Sunggyu moves to stand in front of him with his hands behind his back. “So…” he stretches the word. Howon closes the sketchbook and makes a motion urging Sunggyu to hurry up. “I know you’re a terrible cook who’ll probably get food poisoning if you try to actually sustain yourself,” Howon blows a raspberry, shaking his head, “so, because I don’t want you to starve, I present you this.” He brings his hands forward, holding out his present proudly.  
  
Howon mouth falls open slightly. “Dog food,” he states, voice muted. Sunggyu thins his lips and nods, trying to keep his smile at bay. Howon takes the box from Sunggyu and moves it up and down, towards the light, like he’s trying to make sure it’s not fraudulent. He holds it in his lap, clutching it hard enough to leave prints, but not enough to deform the box.  
  
When Howon finally speaks, it’s with an unfamiliar sincerity. “I’m proud of you, hyung,” he says. “You have no idea.”  
  
Sunggyu’s shoulders drop. He falls back onto the couch beside Howon, pressing their knees close together. “I’ll miss you too, you dolt,” he says.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In the past few weeks Sunggyu’s learnt to grow fond of Soojung’s brand of resentful alacrity. It used to scare him a little, the way she’d tell him brightly he’d done a good job, with the vague threat of a meltdown if he didn’t keep it up, but now he finds it almost comforting. Apart from that, he’s also admittedly grown fond of her as a person. She was cute, and when Sunggyu teased her about how short she was she’d look taken aback for a moment, before ducking her head and telling him to take a seat while grinning.  
  
At the end of today's session, however, when Soojung grabs his arm, pulls him out of the room, and into an empty janitor's closet, Sunggyu learns that fondness only stands so tall in the face of fear. It smells like detergent and tobacco inside the cramped space, and even though they're pressed so close together that Sunggyu can feel Soojung's breasts against his abdomen, the entire thing is still more surreally terrifying rather than sexy. Most things involving women tended to be that way for Sunggyu, to be honest.  
  
"Uh...," Sunggyu starts. He tries putting some distance between them, but ends up causing a shelf of cleaning angents to rattle behind him. "Isn't this breaking some kind of protocol..."  
  
“Don’t be presumptuous,” Soojung says, and then, to dispute herself, stands on her tiptoes to tilt her head up and meet Sunggyu’s mouth. She gets as far as Sunggyu being able to feel her breath skating over his lips, before there’s a small whimper, and then she’s clutching Sunggyu’s arms and wailing into his shirt.  
  
It’s like the moments after an accident where you’ve registered that something big has happened, but you can’t do anything but stand still in shock. It’s when Soojung begins dry sobbing, like somebody's pulling the sounds out of her by dragging a chainsaw through her throat, that he regains awareness and starts rubbing a palm across her back.  
  
“It’s- it’s okay,” he stammers. He waits until she quietens down, small shaky breaths muffled by the material of Sunggyu’s shirt, and then sits her atop of an upturned bucket. Sunggyu takes a seat in front of her on the floor, crossing his legs.  
  
Soojung rests her elbows on her knees and rubs her forehead. “My head hurts,” she mumbles.  
  
“That happens,” Sunggyu responds sympathetically. He waits for her to settle down a little before asking, “Are you okay– well, obviously you aren’t but, will you be? Can I make you okay?”  
  
Soojung twists her lips into a sad smile. “I thought you could,” she says. “Sorry about that, I don’t usually try and accost people, I wouldn’t have done it to anyone else here but you’re just–”  
  
“Incredibly good looking,” Sunggyu offers, winking lasciviously.  
  
Soojung laughs. “Comparatively put together,” she corrects.  
  
Sunggyu raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Soojung nods once, before her face falls and it looks like she’s about to cry again. “Do you… do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”  
  
“Not really,” Soojung says, before realising what she’s said and frantically backtracking. “It’s nothing personal! There isn’t anything wrong! See I was, uh, trying something with you. It was just... I wanted to let myself go into something knowing it would be a bad idea, to see if I could... jump ship... for once...” she trails off, looking chagrined.  
  
Sunggyu’s racks his brains for something helpful, that wouldn’t send her running. “So does that mean… you usually don't jump ship?” he prompts carefully.  
  
“I’m the kind of person who sticks through something till the very end,” Soojung admits. “Desperately trying to make it work, even when it’s obvious it won’t. Jobs, relationships. I guess you could call it determination, but it just…. sucks the life out of me.”  
  
She goes pale, like she’s ashamed of herself for saying anything at all.  
  
Sunggyu clears his throat. “Do you want me to talk about my dog?” he suggests. Soojung almost jumps at the opportunity, looking eternally grateful. “Yes!” she exclaims, straightening out her skirt and, after two attempts, manages to fold her arms neatly on top of her lap. “Yes, talk to me about your dog.”  
  
“Well,” Sunggyu begins, leaning against the box of mopheads behind him. “I actually really, _really_ hated dogs in the beginning…”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Woohyun is waiting for him outside when Sunggyu and Soojung finally leave the building, which is a notable first. Usually they share a few quips and one of them leaves with the last word while the other stays behind fuming. For some reason though, Sunggyu isn’t very surprised to see him there. He bids Soojung goodbye with a hug before walking towards where Woohyun was sitting on the stairs.  
  
“What did you guys talk about?” Woohyun asks, lifting himself up to fall into stride beside Sunggyu.  
  
Sunggyu stuffs his hands into his pockets, he can feel winter approaching in the frosty tenor of the air. “Nothing, I just rambled about my dog for a bit,” he replies.  
  
Woohyun makes a small, airy sound. “What did you say?”  
  
“That I used to hate dogs,” Sunggyu answers. “That I would flinch if any of them get too close.”  
  
“Hmm, I remember,” Woohyun acknowledges. “Did you tell her what changed?”  
  
“I did,” Sunggyu affirms. He doesn’t elaborate until Woohyun sways to the side, bumping their shoulders together and causing Sunggyu to almost topple off his feet. Sunggyu pushes back but with little force, his knuckles barely grazing Woohyun’s jacket before he pulls away to tuck his hand into the pocket of his coat again. “I told her how taking care of one, putting up with all the burdens that came with it, all felt like it was worth it because I ended up with someone who I knew loved me– not unconditionally or anything, I mean Dubu was a dog, but almost there.” He pauses for some input from Woohyun, and when it doesn’t come, continues with, “I told her that’s why losing him sucked so badly.”  
  
They’re at Sunggyu’s bus stop now. He doesn’t know where Woohyun lives, he realises. Doesn’t know what he does for a job; if the dark circles under his eyes are from staying up too late or not sleeping at all; if he has somebody to go home to. Sunggyu used to know the answers to all those questions. Woohyun was going to be an architect; the dark circles were from refusing to sleep until Sunggyu slept with him instead; he didn’t have anybody to go home to, but never seemed to mind that much.  
  
Woohyun tilts his head to the side, considering. “Why don’t you just get another dog?”  
  
Lot’s of reasons. Some existential, some monetary, some trivial. Only one of them is the correct answer to Woohyun’s question though.  
  
“I don’t want one,” Sunggyu says simply, shrugging. There’s the sound of Sunggyu’s bus approaching, and there’s a request on Woohyun’s face. Before Sunggyu can figure out what it is though, the bus comes to a stop beside them, and Woohyun’s expressions smooths into one that’s impassive. The doors open and Woohyun gestures towards them.  
  
“Well, your bus is here.”  
  
Sunggyu takes a seat all the way at the back, slides in right against the window so he can lean his head on the glass. His hands are clammy, and the vibrations of the engine make him feel like he’s floating. He closes his eyes, exhausted. He just wants to sleep.  
  
It’s when the small kids seated in front of him start crying that Sunggyu jolts back to awakeness. He blinks rapidly, eyes darting around the space bewildered, trying to lock onto the cause for the sudden commotion around him. He places his palms flat against the walls to leverage himself into standing position, and that’s when he realises the bus isn’t moving.  
  
From the front somebody’s detailing instructions at the driver through the communicator, and there’s a rapid back and forth until the driver groans and turns around to face everyone, “Unfortunately there’s something wrong with the engine and we keep stalling,” he explains. “I need everybody to evacuate the bus immediately, a backup should be arriving in ten minutes.” There’s a resounding groan as everyone begrudgingly leaves their seats to make towards the exit.  
  
Sunggyu is the last to disembark the vehicle, and instead of waiting with the other passengers for the second bus, he turns around and doesn’t even have to walk more than fifty steps before he sees a familiar figure lounging against a street sign. Sunggyu marches rapidly towards it and _punches_.  
  
Woohyun goes sprawling on the concrete, one hand pressed against the left side of his jaw, the other held up in front of his face as a paltry line of defense. “You fucking pyscho,” Sunggyu seethes. “There were kids on that bus!” He kicks Woohyun in the ribs as well for good measure.  
  
Woohyun spits on the path, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth while glaring up at Sunggyu. “Would you calm down,” he says through gritted teeth. “I just stuck a few rocks into the exhaust pipe, I wasn’t even completely sure it was going to work.”  
  
“You couldn’t have just sent a text?”  
  
“I don’t have your number.”  
  
Sunggyu looks up at the sky, willing the Higher Power he’s been doing dealings with for the last few weeks to grant him some patience. “Then _ask_ for it."  
  
Woohyun studies Sunggyu from where he’s lounging back on the pavement like it’s his fucking bed or something. It could be, for all Sunggyu knows. Woohyun probably is living in the gutters, it’d be suitable if anything.  
  
“If I did,” Woohyun ventures warily, “Would you give it to me?”  
  
Sunggyu shakes his head and kneels on the ground so he’s eye-level with Woohyun. “Fuck no,” he says, before grabbing Woohyun’s face and pulling him into a kiss.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sunggyu’s been living alone long enough now that it’s not disconcerting to come home to a hollow, too-big apartment anymore. That said, he’s also not startled when he walks through the door and finds Dongwoo and Howon both sitting at his dining table looking like concerned parents. Sunggyu pats down his ruffled hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious under their scrutiny, and is self-aware enough to know the reason why.  
  
He tries to get the first word in. “Listen–”  
  
“How long as Woohyun been going to the same meetings as you?” Howon interjects, wearing the role of bad cop like a second skin.  
  
Sunggyu debates telling them the truth, but Howon’s hands are white where they’re clenched on the table, and “Since the beginning,” trips out of Sunggyu’s mouth without him thinking.  
  
“Hyung,” Dongwoo whispers, like he’s scared Sunggyu might bolt off. “How could you not tell us this?”  
  
Sunggyu stares at them both awestruck, and then waves his arms around to make his point. “Because I thought you guys would overreact, and wow, would you look at that?” he marvels. “I was right.”  
  
“Overreact?” Dongwoo and Howon both echo at the same time. Sunggyu snorts and makes to walk towards his room, completely prepared to leave them there oggling at each other like idiots, until Howon grabs his wrist and pulls him back.  
  
“Oi!” Sunggyu snaps, yanking his wrist away. Howon looks apologetic, but even more resolute in his over-the-top stance on the matter.  
  
“How are we overreacting?” he challenges. “You’ve been getting cosy with Woohyun while at a support group for people in unhealthy relationships. Please tell me you can laugh about at the irony there, because I sure as hell can’t.”  
  
“Cosy? We’ve literally done nothing,” Sunggyu lies. “I was surprised he even remembered me.”  
  
Dongwoo’s stares at Sunggyu dumbfounded. “How could he _not_ remember–” Howon shoots him a warning look, and he drops the sentence. “Look you just, need to stop going. You were getting better and it’s like–”  
  
“Woohyun’s already made you use up your lifetime supply of stupidity hall passes,” Howon cuts in. “You can’t afford to be around him anymore.”  
  
Sunggyu squares his shoulders. It’s not even like he disagrees, but he suddenly feels a burning need to defend Woohyun like his own pride is at stake as well. “Okay for one, I was getting better while seeing Woohyun every week this entire time. Two, you’re acting like he’s a drama villain. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that bad.”  
  
“He isn’t,” Dongwoo concurs, and pinches Howon’s thigh when it looks like he’s about to disagree. “What he did to you though? That’s the awful story we’re talking about right now.”  
  
“Listen just,” Howon looks at Sunggyu desperately. “Just stop seeing him, okay. You were learning how to cope and this is just… Fuck.”  
  
Sunggyu deflates, all the exhaustion cumulated over the day washing over him at once. “Can you guys stop,” he pleads. “Stop. I was doing fine getting over Dubu and–”  
  
“ _Dubu_.” Howon reaches out to grip Sunggyu’s shoulders tightly. “Hyung _please_. What you were doing was learning to cope without your coping mechanism.” He doesn’t say it condescendingly, but Sunggyu feels small anyway. “You don’t recover from a fall by climbing up the cliff again.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In the time they’ve known each other, Woohyun’s managed to coax Sunggyu into doing a lot of stupid things. That was the basic gist of their first meeting after all. But sleeping with a 17-going-on-18 year old high school student was probably near the bottom of Sunggyu’s list of “Fuck Ups Made Thanks to Nam Woohyun”. Things that have the honour of making top tier of that list include:  
  
**7.** Asking Woohyun to model for his final Studio project. Sunggyu remembers getting the assignment brief – three words centred on the middle of a white A4 page – _’Paint a Disaster’_. On a subjective scale, he feels like this should be number one. Before then Woohyun was a casual hook-up; an ominous villain in his larger story that he knew he had to defeat one day; a terrible, overly needy friend. Spending hours every week, trying to recreate the sharp contours of Woohyun’s face with just a brush however, taught Sunggyu a very important lesson: It’s hard not to fall in love with something through watercolour.  
  
**4.** Having sex in the art room. They’d knocked into a cupboard and Woohyun got paint _everywhere_ and Sunggyu found charcoal on random parts of his body for days. He doesn’t even want to think about that one.  
  
**2.** Here, he’s not sure if it was cheating on Hyosung that was stupider, or not begging her to take him back. To this day they’re still reluctantly cordial. There’s an unspoken agreement that if she needed something, whether it was someone to drop her parents off to the airport, or even a place to crash because her roommate Sunhwa locked her out again, Sunggyu would never say no. The same way he would never say no when Woohyun pressed him into the mattress and asked, _“Do you ever wish you were with me instead?”_  
  
**1.** By far though, the dumbest thing Woohyun had ever convinced him to do was get a dog.  
  
Sunggyu had wanted to get a cat. They were low maintenance, didn’t demand much apart from thoughtless affection, but Woohyun had brought out the powerpoint slides and spammed him with cute pictures of pups and convinced him to get a dog instead. Frankly, it was pretty amazing Woohyun had the gall to try and persuade him to do _anything_ , when it was his fault Sunggyu had broken up with his girlfriend of 3 years, pissed off his best friends, and was suddenly wanting of actual, beneficial company in the first place.  
  
Of course Sunggyu couldn’t take care of a dog. Especially not the breed he’d bought. _’Jindo’s were originally bred as hunting dogs’_ said the information sheet given to him by the animal shelter, _’Not for inexperienced owners’_ it had also said. Woohyun had looked guilty, but not particularly apologetic. To punish Woohyun for convincing him to make such a dumbass decision, Sunggyu made an even dumber one and forced Woohyun to take on the burden of ownership until Sunggyu was finally ready to face the reality where he was now responsible for another living being.  
  
That’s where it all started. Woohyun began coming over to Sunggyu’s apartment daily. In the morning wearing running shorts to take the dog for a walk, in the evenings with some dog food he’d heard was good for a canine’s teeth. Suddenly there was a bottle of dog shampoo next to Sunggyu’s in the bathroom, and Sunggyu had to check his couch routinely for any chew toys before he sat on it. _“I want to call him Namu,”_ Woohyun had said one fine rare day where he’d managed to coerce Sunggyu into coming with them to the dog park. Sunggyu had watched, mildly disgusted, as his dog peed shamelessly on somebody’s bicycle and replied _“That’s a stupid name.”_ After much arguing they’d reached a compromise and decided to call him Dubu.  
  
Somehow, in between his shampoo and Dubu’s shampoo, there became a space for Woohyun’s over-expensive brand-name shampoo as well. Woohyun slept over quite a bit anyway, Sunggyu had stopped bothering to try and kick him out years ago. It made sense then, with all the extra time Woohyun was at the apartment, for him to have a set of pyjamas and spare clothes in Sunggyu’s drawer as well. It was in a fit of annoyance – when Sunggyu had came back from class to find Woohyun trying to pick the lock on his door because he’d forgotten his contacts inside – that he’d suggested, _”Why don’t you just move in you parasite.”_  
  
Woohyun wasn’t easy to live with. He took too long in the bathroom; Sunggyu would too often end up hitting his forehead on on the chin-up bar Woohyun had installed in the bedroom doorway; and when Woohyun got into one of his moods, Sunggyu would have to jump through hoops to cheer him up. Their fights were bad, and combine living with Woohyun with living with an adult dog, and most of the time it really wasn’t worth the sex. Occasionally though, Sunggyu would fall asleep on the study table, face sticky against loose pages of sketches, and then wake up with a blanket around his shoulders and a warm dog curled around his legs. That’s how Sunggyu knew it was worth everything else.  
  
Then one morning, almost three years later, Sunggyu had woken up to an empty bed and Dubu pawing at the front door. He’d loitered around the apartment for most of that day, feeling lazier than usual, and had microwaved leftovers for lunch and dinner. He lived like that for two more days until Dubu started getting restless, whining at him and acting jittery until Sunggyu had finally grabbed his leash and said _“Come on boy, let’s go for a walk.”_  
  
They’d walked for the entire day, all around Seoul in the middle of a ferocious winter. They walked through all the places Woohyun could be, his friends’ house, his favourite restaurants, did a loop around his favourite shopping mall in Itaewon. By the time they arrived home Sunggyu didn’t think there was a road in Seoul that didn’t have the print from his grimy boots, and Dubu's soft paw, pressed into the snow.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s strange, Sunggyu’s gone so long pretending that Woohyun was never a part of his life in the first place, that even though he knows from all the self-help books he’s read that what he should want is ‘closure’, all Sunggyu _needs_ is to never see Woohyun again. But also to maybe punch-kiss him one more time. Is that closure? Sunggyu isn’t really sure.  
  
However, he values the character development he's undertaken the last few weeks, and to respect that Sunggyu decides to go through with the sensible option this time. He didn’t give Woohyun his number, but he’d forced Woohyun to give him his. He shoots Woohyun a text with a time and place, and then leaves the house in a loose jacket and beanie so he can get there two hours early and work himself into a state of panic.  
  
The pet cemetery’s closed this time at night, so Sunggyu sits on the pavement outside the gates and tries to figure out exactly what his plan of action is. Is there really anything to say to someone who up and left you without any explanation, without even a fucking note or an email. Sure there’s _‘Why?’_ , but then what? He moves on? Leaves it all in the past? Just thinking of that causes a nebulous feeling of unease to seize his stomach. He pushes his beanie lower to cover his eyes, like it’d hide him from what was inevitable.  
  
He can hear footsteps coming closer from the left, and before he can pray to every God he can think of for it not to be the person who it most probably is, Woohyun’s voice floats down towards him. “You’re here early.”  
  
“Well, thanks to you, technically now we’re just both on time,” Sunggyu says. He pats the space next to him. Woohyun hesitates, and then sits down a good few inches away from Sunggyu.  
  
“So what do we need to talk about?” Woohyun asks.  
  
“Your favourite colour Woohyun,” Sunggyu sneers. “What do you think?”  
  
Woohyun bridles and shrinks away. “Fine,” he mumbles, Sunggyu can almost hear the pout. “I don’t want to get back together. There, I said it.”  
  
Sunggyu stares at him in disbelief. “Why?” he cries, never mind the fact that wasn't even what he was getting at. "Because I’ll pack my suitcases one day, leaving you with nothing but a dog?” And with that, all of Sunggyu’s intentions to try and have a reasonable, leveled, adult conversation about the topic, goes flying out the window. Woohyun looks deeply perturbed, lips turned into a heavy frown. Against his better judgement the guilt starts eating at Sunggyu’s conscience and he tries to backpedal.  
  
“Okay I’m sorry, that was harsh–”  
  
“No it’s true,” Woohyun concedes. And then, “Did you know Kibum has a dog too?”  
  
Sunggyu wrinkles his forehead. “So?”  
  
“It died around two months ago,” Woohyun informs. “We buried him in this cemetery too. I felt really fucking shitty. Kibum was so devastated, and so I went with him to bury the ashes but then I saw...” He pauses, and swallows thickly, “I saw that cheap gravestone and I- I.”  
  
"Huh? Wait, you don't mean..." Sunggyu’s listening, but it feels like water rushing through his ears. “Did you take it?” he urges.  
  
Woohyun nods, face hardened from distress. “I was going to replace it with a better one, he deserved better. Then I forgot. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about you so I- I left that pamphlet in your letterbox and–”  
  
“Jesus,” Sunggyu groans, leaning back until he’s lying down flat against the footpath. He spreads his arms out like a sad starfish. “You’re a menace. You’re so fucking manipulative.”  
  
Woohyun glances at Sunggyu quickly before turning back. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks weakly.  
  
Sunggyu jerks upright again. “Do you _want_ to leave?” he presses, voice borderline hysterical. “Because you left, you know that right? You left. You never told me why you did, either by the way. Now you’re telling me you want to come back.”  
  
“I don’t!” Woohyun insists. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I know he meant a lot to you-”  
  
“You meant a lot to me too,” Sunggyu interrupts. It’s out there now, in the open. It feels weird, Sunggyu’s always known it as the truth, but he doesn’t think he’s ever said it out loud. “You never bothered to make sure I was okay when you left.”  
  
Woohyun ducks his head to look down at the ground, and starts scratching the concrete absently. “ _I_ wasn’t okay then,” he admits. “I thought you would be.”  
  
“Why would you not be?” Sunggyu questions. “We were together for how many years–”  
  
“We weren’t together though,” Woohyun disputes. “We never were. I know how you act when you’re “together” with someone, you were never that way with me. Did we ever even go on dates? Did we do anything? We just ate on the same table and slept together.”  
  
The last time Sunggyu was ‘together’ with someone he’d been fucking Woohyun on the side anyway, so he doesn’t really get the point being made. “None of that stuffs necessary,” Sunggyu says. “I don’t remember you doing anything either, you know. It takes two to make out in the back of a movie theatre. Oh wait, not two men though, that’s for sure. Or did you forget about that?” Woohyun flinches. “Yeah, I thought so.”  
  
“I would have,” Woohyun defends. “I would have if I thought you wanted it.”  
  
“Why would I not have wanted it?” Sunggyu says. “We were _living_ together. Did you honestly think I owned a dog with you and slept with you all the while not wanting anything to do with you?” Woohyun is silent for a long moment, and then it hits Sunggyu like a freight train. “Oh my God,” he says. “You legitimately thought I hated you and was using you as a sex doll or something.”  
  
Woohyun burns red, which is an interesting new development. Last Sunggyu remembered Woohyun didn’t have any semblance of shame. “I didn’t think _that_ ,” he hisses. “I’m sorry that I wanted some assurance that I wasn't devoting myself to someone who wanted me around just to project their repressed gay fantasies on.”  
  
“I was _not_ repre– You know what, fine. Fine,” Sunggyu scrambles up and dusts off his jeans. “We can’t get back together, you’re right, that’s a horrible idea.” Woohyun’s still sitting on the ground, arms draped over his knees, looking away from Sunggyu. He looks so pathetic, and it makes Sunggyu’s indignation subdue. Because Sunggyu’s pathetic too. This entire situation is. He sits back down again, close to Woohyun this time, so he could bury his head into his neck if he wanted to.  
  
“I like you way too much,” Sunggyu confesses, to himself mostly. “Listen, we both have some stuff to work out, obviously.” Woohyun is still silent, but doesn’t look like he disagrees. “So let’s… try and work it out. Six months, how does that sound?”  
  
Woohyun finally slowly turns to look at him. “Six months?” he repeats, confused. Sunggyu nods.  
  
“Six months, okay? Six months we don’t do anything. No holding hands, no kissing, nothing. We get to know each other, properly. We’ll get Howon or Sungyeol to chaffeur us if we have to. Then, after six months, you’ll send me a text, asking me if I want to go out with you, and I’ll reply with yes.”  
  
Woohyun looks thoughtful, Sunggyu would even say he looks hopeful if he wanted to be optimistic. “What if after six months nothing’s changed?” he asks carefully.  
  
For the first time since he saw Woohyun again, Sunggyu lets himself smile at him. Completely and wholeheartedly. “Then we try again."  
  
Woohyun is quiet, and then he reaches a hand out to rest on Sunggyu’s knee. “When does the six months start?” he asks. The teasing, flirty lilt Sunggyu’s used to hearing in his voice is back. It’s inappropriate considering the situation, but Sunggyu’s never felt so glad to hear it.  
  
“Uh…” Sunggyu stretches his mouth, his jaw feeling loose out of nowhere. Woohyun starts drawing circles on the inside of his thigh, and Sunggyu’s been very good thus far, but progress is made in baby steps after all. “Tomorrow,” he decides, intertwining their fingers together and standing up. If they run, they can get to Sunggyu’s apartment in less than ten minutes, and Dongwoo and Howon should be gone by then.  
  
He squeezes Woohyun's hand, doesn't plan on letting it go tonight. “Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much and sorry to naladot for going above and beyond as a beta and basically guiding me through this fic u___u i'm sorry for how makjang this fic is but, do you right? but mostly i'm sorry to myself for writing the bulk of this in 3 days, sob.


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